Chapter 40
In babyhood Upon her lap I lay, With infant food She moistened my clay; Had she withheld The succour she supplied, By hunger quelled, Your Strephon might have died!
LORD CH. (much moved).
Had that refreshment been denied, Indeed our Strephon might have died!
ALL (much affected).
Had that refreshment been denied, Indeed our Strephon might have died!
LORD MOUNT. But as she's not His mother, it appears, Why weep these hot Unnecessary tears?
And by what laws Should we so joyously Rejoice, because Our Strephon did not die?
Oh rather let us pipe our eye Because our Strephon did not die!
ALL. That's very true--let's pipe our eye Because our Strephon did not die!
(All weep. Iolanthe, who has succeeded in hiding her face from Lord Chancellor, escapes unnoticed.)
PHYL. Go, traitorous one--for ever we must part: To one of you, my Lords, I give my heart!
ALL. Oh, rapture!
STREPH. Hear me, Phyllis, ere you leave me.
PHYL. Not a word--you did deceive me.
ALL. Not a word--you did deceive her.
(Exit Strephon.)
BALLAD--PHYLLIS.
For riches and rank I do not long-- Their pleasures are false and vain; I gave up the love of a lordly throng For the love of a simple swain.
But now that simple swain's untrue, With sorrowful heart I turn to you-- A heart that's aching, Quaking, breaking, As sorrowful hearts are wont to do!
The riches and rank that you befall Are the only baits you use, So the richest and rankiest of you all My sorrowful heart shall choose.
As none are so n.o.ble--none so rich As this couple of lords, I'll find a niche In my heart that's aching, Quaking, breaking, For one of you two-and I don't care which!
ENSEMBLE.
PHYL. (to Lord Mountararat and Lord Tolloller).
To you I give my heart so rich!
ALL (puzzled). To which?
PHYL. I do not care!
To you I yield--it is my doom!
ALL. To whom?
PHYL. I'm not aware!
I'm yours for life if you but choose.
ALL. She's whose?
PHYL. That's your affair!
I'll be a countess, shall I
ALL. Of what?
PHYL. I do not care!
ALL. Lucky little lady!
Strephon's lot is shady; Rank, it seems, is vital, "Countess" is the t.i.tle, But of what I'm not aware!
(Enter Strephon.)
STREPH. Can I inactive see my fortune fade?
No, no!
PEERS. Ho, ho!
STREPH. Mighty protectress, hasten to my aid!
(Enter Fairies, tripping, headed by Celia, Leila, and Fleta, and followed by Queen.)
CHORUS Tripping hither, tripping thither.
OF n.o.body knows why or whither; FAIRIES Why you want us we don't know, But you've summoned us, and so Enter all the little fairies To their usual tripping measure!
To oblige you all our care is-- Tell us, pray, what is your pleasure!
STREPH. The lady of my love has caught me talking to another-- PEERS. Oh, fie! young Strephon is a rogue!
STREPH. I tell her very plainly that the lady is my mother-- PEERS. Taradiddle, taradiddle, tol lol lay!
STREPH. She won't believe my statement, and declares we must be parted, Because on a career of double-dealing I have started, Then gives her hand to one of these, and leaves me broken-hearted-- PEERS. Taradiddle, taradiddle, tol lol lay!
QUEEN. Ah, cruel ones, to separate two lovers from each other!
FAIRIES. Oh, fie! our Strephon's not a rogue!
QUEEN. You've done him an injustice, for the lady is his mother!
FAIRIES. Taradiddle, taradiddle, tol lol lay!
LORD CH. That fable perhaps may serve his turn as well as any other.
(Aside.) I didn't see her face, but if they fondled one another, And she's but seventeen--I don't believe it was his mother!
Taradiddle, taradiddle.
ALL. Tol lol lay!
LORD TOLL. I have often had a use For a thorough-bred excuse Of a sudden (which is English for "repente"), But of all I ever heard This is much the most absurd, For she's seventeen, and he is five-and-twenty!
ALL. Though she is seventeen, and he is four or five-and-twenty!
Oh, fie! our Strephon is a rogue!
LORD MOUNT. Now, listen, pray to me, For this paradox will be Carried, n.o.body at all contradicente.
Her age, upon the date Of his birth, was minus eight, If she's seventeen, and he is five-and-twenty!
PEERS and FAIRIES. If she is seventeen, and he is only five-and-twenty.
ALL. To say she is his mother is an utter bit of folly!
Oh, fie! our Strephon is a rogue!
Perhaps his brain is addled, and it's very melancholy!
Taradiddle, taradiddle, tol lol lay!
I wouldn't say a word that could be reckoned as injurious, But to find a mother younger than her son is very curious, And that's a kind of mother that is usually spurious.
Taradiddle, taradiddle, tol lol lay!
LORD CH. Go away, madam; I should say, madam, You display, madam, Shocking taste.